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... ching over frostbitten leaves. The air was cold, sharp with the scent of pine and blood.

Daemon, wrapped tightly in bloodstained swaddling cloth, felt it—something old. Familiar.

A pulse. A vibration in the air that prickled across his newborn skin like static.

Astral Force.

Not just magic. Not that chaotic, corrupted surge he once wielded at death's edge. No—this was refined power, drawn from deep within. It was the convergence of Mana, Will, and Origin—the three ...

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“Men and women can’t touch each other. You doing this is not right, right?”

“Humph, you are already married to me. You still care about that?”

“Eh eh, second young master, you haven’t healed yet. I’m thinking for your own good.”

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Man: “Ah……?”

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Woman: If……if I accidentally cross the line……you don’t…”

“Humph……if you continue to talk, I’ll tear your clothes and seal your mouth.”

“You check so carefully because you are afraid that I’ll harm you?”

“That isn’t it. Humph, I only want to know why someone will commit suicide by hanging on the wedding night.”

“……”

“You hate me so much? You prefer to die instead of spending the wedding night with me?

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